#runsmarty

Shoegaze. My running style.

Ugh. Looking at the race photos from Run for the Water revealed some pretty lousy running form. I knew I was really struggling on the hilly 10 mile course, but turns out I was beaten into submission, head bowed, whipped. Pretty much the whole time.

I was more sore from this race than I was from the Chicago Marathon. What does that tell me on the outset of half marathon training?

Chicago Marathon Recap

I was just past the 25.2 mile marker when the sniper darted me. Pow. Not in the calves, as I had anticipated. Not in the weaker, oft reconstructed, right leg. Dead center in the hamstring of the left leg. Complete seizure of the muscle. Frozen in contraction, screaming. The calf and shin flashing rigid in sympathy.

I said a lot of bad words. I staggered. I knew if I stopped completely that everything could go -- quads, abs, both calves, the works -- full labor pains. I think I yelled, "Now? Really?!" I tried kicking. I tried stomping my left leg. I sucked the tiny plastic container I had filled with pickle juice dry. Limping, I ripped the lid off and inhaled the vinegary remnants, hoping to send some signal to the muscles to relax. And it appeared to work. Just enough. Fluttering on the edge of cramp, but semi-functional. I slowed to a jog. Runners blew past me. Mercifully, the finish appeared around the final turn. I finished the Chicago Marathon, humbled, slow and timid. 

It's not like I didn't try. Anti-cramping measures included: 

-abstinence for alcohol for 30 days (really super hard for this wine lover) -abstinence from caffeine for 3 days (no coffee!) -5 day pre-race nutrition plan -twice daily magnesium supplements for 10 days -Saturday 80 minute sports massage -Saturday Epsom Salt bath -pre-race beet juice -On course nutrition: Gatorade at almost every station, Honey Stinger chews, Salt Stick tabs, gels and on and on.

Before 25.5 episode, the Chicago Marathon was the most thrilling event of my running life. 

The expo was the best I've seen -- and I've seen a lot because of my work. With enough room to navigate comfortably despite the crowds. Fun exhibits and social media opportunities. No lines to  pick up my packet or shirt on Saturday. 

I can't say enough about my lodgings at the Hotel Burnham. Just a couple blocks from the start, housed in Chicago's oldest steel "skyscraper," this Kimpton hotel provided service and style. And an old school key -- an actual physical key. Which I promptly locked in my room because who uses keys anymore? 

The proximity to the course made me a bit overconfident about getting to the start. Leave extra time! Departing my room about 6:30, I made it to my corral just as the announcement was made that they were closing, at 7:20. There were bottlenecks getting through security. Though the gear check was efficient and without any line, people were sprinting past me as I turned over my stuff. I didn't realize what a long and winding road it would be to the corral, and I heard the national anthem play as I was winding around the back of a building. I squeezed into the back of "B" just as the wheelchair athletes were off. 

I'm not a big fan of standing around in the start corral, so the timing was perfect for me, but if you are someone that feels stress about being late to the race start, give yourself tons of time. 

The course is something worth studying in advance. I tried. I knew something about the architecture and the 29 neighborhoods and it was a welcome distraction.

At about mile 3 my Garmin Fenix 2 watch crapped out. I stopped and restarted it. The number of other runners and the concrete canyons proved too much, I guess. It buzzed in and out of satellite reception so often, I seriously considered tossing it in the Chicago river. It was worse then useless. 

Luckily, about 6 miles in, the 3:35 pace group overtook me. At that point, I took stock and decided that something just a hair under 3:40 would be a good result. Nowhere near a PR but not my slowest either. That was probably a mistake. I should have completely ignored time, but I just couldn't stand the thought of finishing my slowest. Stupid. 

I drafted off that pace group for about the next 10 miles. In the meanwhile, the support along the course was amazing. There was somebody yelling at ever corner, on every block, for 26.2. Amazing.

My 3:40:11 finish wasn’t my slowest, nowhere near a PR, but fine for me.

But in the end, those cramps, my spastic thrashing, the pickle juice chugging are all telling me something. Five marathons are enough. I’m just not biochemically put together to tolerate that distance. Chicago is a great one to go out on.